Hamburgers in Hamburg
by Hoshi Nagaiki
Summary: On the Beatles' 1966 return to Hamburg, they take a trip down Memory Lane which involves Pete getting good-looking girls, George trying to lose his virginity, Paul and John joining a sex cult, and Stu laughing at them all.


Hamburgers in Hamburg

By Hoshi Nagaiki

A/N: Since I'm supposed to be writing an essay, I started reading all the old fanfics I have lying around on my computer and thought, "Hey! I should post something today!", so here's what I decided on. I have the chapter after this one written plus a few more bits and pieces. So, maybe when I stop working on "Dear John" and "Wrackspurts and Beatles" both of which are not posted yet, I'll concentrate on this.

Prologue

Let Me Take You Down

_Hamburg, Germany_

_June 26, 1966_

In this second, John Lennon imagined he was homeless. He lived on the money provided to him by the benevolence of passer-bys and instead of saving for some practical expenditure like a house or a haircut, John spent it all on alcohol and prostitutes.

That had to be the life, John thought, as he lay down on the gravelly, bird shit-stained bench. That life was freedom. Besides the constraints of a lousy monetary situation, John would be able to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and the only birds that would chase after him were the pigeons he'd share that rare loaf of bread with. No money meant no fame which in turn meant no confining hotel rooms.

The fading Hamburg sun shone onto him like a spotlight, and John covered his eyes with his arm. Disgusted by the blinding feeling, John switched to a sitting position on the bench. Though he was currently situated in a popular public park, only greenery and tiny animals surrounded him. It was that time of day when those who were headed home had headed home and those who were staying out had already relocated to the Reeperbahn. How John wished the world was always like this, abundantly vacant and silently occupied!

"Are you fucking done yet, Paul?" John called to his band mate as he floated off his whimsical cloud and into his current reality. Paul and John had been strolling through the park in an attempt to avoid the buzzing population of Hamburg when Paul had decided he needed to take a piss. Now, three minutes later, Paul had still not emerged from a dark accumulation of trees on the edge of the park.

When Paul didn't respond, John further hurried him, "What are you doing, McCartney, taking a shit?"

"Hold your bloody horses, Lennon," Paul mumbled as he sauntered out from the dense wildlife, zipping his trousers up. He combed his tousled moptop with his fingers and frowned profusely at his older friend.

John jumped into a standing position and joined Paul's side. "Took long enough, you did. You weren't wankin' off were ya?"

Ignoring him, Paul rolled his eyes and stuck his hands in the pockets of his favorite black overcoat. Coolly, he pulled out a cigarette and lit both him and John a smoke. "The truth is," Paul explained with a long, smoky drawl, "I'm just not very excited to see _them_ again."

"You bloody serious, McCartney?" John's tone augmented more than a few angry decibels, and his cheeks reddened irately. He had not walked this whole way just for Paul to chicken out at the last minute.

Inhaling what could be his last breath if he chose the wrong answer, Paul met John's hawkish eyes with all the boldness he could muster. He crossed his arms and retorted in a decidedly chilly tenor, "Last time, we were here they treated us like we were no better than a tiny speck of dust and then tried to sweep us off into the air."

"Maybe, if you hadn't been such a fuckin' prick to them!"

"You're defending them?" Paul gaped outrageously at John: how could he stick up for two random birds they hadn't talked to in years rather than his own band mate? It was madness and blatant sacrilege.

John's lips convoluted into his infamous cheshire grin as he snubbed out his ciggie with his shoe and met Paul's doe eyes, "Jealous, are we?"

At that second, Paul immensely desired to punch John. He abhorred John's little taunts to him, mostly because everything he said had a disturbing amount of candor. Glaring, Paul clenched his jaw (and fists) as he caustically replied, "Do you not remember what they did to us?"

"What they did to you and George, you mean?" The annoying smirk could be heard in John's voice now.

Paul grumbled just thinking about it. "Let's avoid Memory Lane, Johnny."

But, it was too late; John had that reminiscent twinkle in his eyes as he tilted his head towards the sky and let out a wistful chuckle.

A/N: Prepare to read the mayhem of the Hamburg days. Prepare to feel the love between souls of nowhere. Prepare to watch the curdling awkwardness and flustered ignominy of a first love. Prepare to review and tell me what you thought of the prologue. One, two, three. . . .

Now, go! :D


End file.
